2011

**** updated to add: there is a duck in my backyard. I am not even kidding. Does it not recognize the danger it's in, just traipsing around willy-nilly in suburban back yards? I thought wild animals were supposed to be wily. The jokes are just boiling over right now, dying to come out, but I have already promised Ina, as you can see below. Curses!

It's the very last day of 2011, can you believe it? I was just looking for last year's 'Goodbye, 2010, I Hate You with an Unending Passion' post so I could compare, but I guess I hated 2010 so much that I didn't write one. It seems unlike me, but I guess you never know what wacky thing I might do, or not do, next. Oh well, it's probably better; who needs to read a bunch of dreariness from the past when we can look to the future and talk about delicious squirrels or similar? For example, look at the picture of my backyard this morning! See all those beautiful, tender birds??? The bite-sized ones are best, I hear.

Naturally, though, I can't do a New Year's post without remembering the best New Year's Eve ever, when Janelle's washing machine caught fire and her cat saved their entire family. I didn't write the part about the cat before, but it's 100% true. Because she has multiple small children, her washing machine is always running, including in the middle of the night on New Year's Eve. They turned on the 6,583rd load of the day, shut the cats in the laundry room and went to bed. Pretty soon, they were awakened by Speedy's unholy yowling and frantic scratching. It could have been because he was choking to death on the belching black smoke but I prefer to think he was thinking only of his loving family. And that, C Mike, is why we don't eat cats.

Let's see, what else? I would keep going on the dog/squirrel/cat/bird eating theme, only Aunt Ina wrote me a note yesterday and told me I was very gross. I guess she's kind of squeamish. Also, she is one of those people that feeds the squirrels in her back yard. I'm not kidding, she has at least three feeders and she goes through sunflower seeds and peanuts like I go through wine. So Happy New Year, Ina! I will try to not gross you out for at least a month.

I hope you all have a fantastic New Year's Eve and a great start to 2012 tomorrow. I don't have any big plans to go out and drink too much and get in a ridiculous fight with friends or family members, because I can do that without leaving my house. It's much cheaper and more convenient that way, plus I don't have to wear spanx and lipstick. I'm practical that way. But tomorrow, I plan on making the most of the traditional New Year's Day thrift store shopping spree. All of a sudden, I have a compelling need for some very small saute pans. Happy New Year, y'all!

School

Hey, everyone! How's it going? I probably wouldn't be writing today, but I have received MULTIPLE reports that my last post was extra dreary and it sure would be super nice to have something different up here instead. So I thought I would put up some pictures and make a report. I am too lazy to check and make sure, but I believe I previously reported that I am at at the National Fire Academy along with my tinfoil/amethyst hat for protection from The Man. Did I mention that there is a guy here that looks exactly like Ferris Bueller? Every time I see him I think, 'Bueller? Bueller?' Oh, I crack myself up. But I feel sorry for him, because I bet if he had a dollar for every time someone said that he would have enough cash for some plastic surgery.

Here are some pictures, just for funsies. The one from the Fallen Firefighter's Memorial that was supposed to go with the Timmy Stackpole post, along with one of the memorial itself. The flag one is a 9-11 memorial modeled on the flag-raising photo that everyone loves so much. Sorry they were taken in the dark but that's pretty much my only option, since I am EVER SO BUSY learning all day long.

This place is weird, you guys. Do any of you remember college? I kind of do. It's sort of like that, only not quite so much fun. Ratty dorm room? Check? Dining hall food? Check. Alcohol and explosives restrictions? Check. Actually, now that I think about it, it bears a certain resemblance to prison, too. Not that I would know! Definitely not, and anyone who says they were my roommate in prison is definitely lying. I can't believe how many people lie these days. It's very discouraging for truth-telling folks like myself, seriously. Next thing you know they are going to be making me pee in a cup. What? They didn't do that at your university? I suppose you didn't have bars on the windows, either? And why did I have to pick potatoes on the weekends wearing that funny jumpsuit? I am definitely going to stop writing checks to the alumni association, and I think I better have a chat with my dad.

Huh, better go to bed. They are calling lights out. What? That's normal, right? Good night!

Phone

Well, I did it. I went right into the phone store and did it. I got a phone so smart that it could probably finish that cold fusion device I've been working on. I was terrified, of course. All that creepy technology staring me down. And it was full of zombies*! But I just told them to get out of my way or I was going to blast them with my death ray and they all just turned back, then shuffled off to look at ipads.

I did tell the greeter man that I wanted the phone with the death ray option, but his name tag said 'Jazz' and if there's one thing you can count on from a man named after music it's that he will not think I'm funny. After that he palmed me off on a lovely young woman named Erin who immediately helped me purchase my phone along with many potentially unnecessary accessories, including a cover with purple and white birds. I don't even like bird designs, though I understand they are very fashionable as items of decor these days. She was very adamant that I needed it, though, and who am I to argue with her? The zombies steered clear of her, so she must know what she's talking about. They're probably scared of birds.

Here's the part that kills me: I went in there, plopped down my credit card, and they let me walk out of there just as if I had any clue about what to do with that thing. It was just like having a baby, when you go into the hospital like a regular person, and come out with this very small, delicate and expensive thing that you have absolutely no idea how to operate. Oh, sure, you've read all the books and have some theoretical knowledge about sleep deprivation and pure desperation. Hell, you might even have some practical knowledge from the time you drank beer for 96 hours straight then lost your shoes, wallet and several other pretty useful items of apparel at Waterbust. Hypothetically speaking, I mean.

BWAHAHHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!! SUCKER, you have no freaking clue what you just got yourself into!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Oh wait, where was I? Oh yeah, the only difference between the phone store and the baby hospital is that the phone store was free of blood, vomit or spurting geysers of milk. Zombies usually have some gore hanging off them that looks pretty similar to the detritus of childbirth but they were surprisingly clean at that store. Maybe they're unionized?

In any event, once again, I'm pretty sure I have no idea what I've gotten myself into, but at least I can take the phone back, right?

*Yes, Ina, the zombie part is all lies

Suckers

Haha, suckers! I am totally only writing today so I don't bust up my awesome consecutive string of posts. I might have cobbled together this many in a row before, maybe, in about 2009, back before I hit forty, when the fire could still fly from my fingertips on a regular basis, but it's pretty much unprecedented in the recent past. Dammit. That's all I've got. Well, I'll see what I can do. I might have to resort to pictures of brussels sprouts again. I'm not proud.

Work SUCKED today; I accidentally insulted this crusty old ex-colonel and then crashed the travel program on my computer after I spent approximately twelve hours planning a trip I'm not super enthusiastic about to start with. When I got home I saw on facebook I missed the birthday of one of my favorite people ever. Because I never, ever look at facebook at work. Sorry, Janelle! Actually, you know what? I never remember birthdays. It's one of my character flaws. I think it has to do with my whole Jehovah's Witness/Holiday aversion thing. That might be an excellent topic for another day, but I'm too tired and cranky to go there today.

Oh, I know! Once again, I need to address the issue of lies on here. Yesterday, at our early Thanksgiving party, one of my charming aunts informed me that sometimes she just skims my blog because she knows it's full of lies. It's just too outrageous to be true, she said. MY OWN AUNT! Can you believe that? I have talked about this before, multiple times, but a nice refresher is always good. Everything I put on here is basically true. Things will usually fall into one of several categories. Reports of events are always mostly true, but might be slightly exaggerated or embellished for effect. Hare-brained schemes, which are labeled with that category, are always straight out of my imagination, but are most often based on something that actually happened. Flat out lies are pretty obvious, like above where I said I never look at facebook at work. Also, if you'll notice, I have categories called 'lies' and 'true'. If you're wondering, you can always check the label. And, of course, you can always ask in the comments or email me at womanwithadeadcat (at) gmaildotcom.

And, finally, here's an example of a typical exaggeration, for future reference: After I posted this I received this question: 'Did they really lock you in your apartment when the President flew into Osan??' Now, the answer is no, they didn't really lock me in my apartment. Instead, they shot chloroform into my ductwork so I was unconscious for the whole event. But see, that's not quite as funny.

So there you have it, the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, from a woman with a dead cat in her purse.

Columbus Day

Man, Columbus sure is getting a bad rap lately. Come ON, people; he didn't personally steal land from some adorable rosy-cheeked pappooses, you know! He was LONG dead by the time the pappooses had to go to crappy reservations and work in baby sweatshops making dreamcatchers, bear claw necklaces and fringed leather jackets. I'm not necessarily defending him but I AM getting a little concerned he might get his day-off-from-work-in-October celebratory occasion stripped from him. I don't really care so much as long as it gets replaced by Sacajawea Day or similar. I'm an equal opportunity day-off-from-work enjoyer; I'm kind of awesome that way.

I hope you all had a nice holiday weekend. Nothing too exciting here- we changed over the car emergency kits to the winter version. It's an excellent time to put a blanket and hats and jackets for everyone in there if you haven't already done it. It's also a good time to change the batteries in your smoke alarms and flashlights, check the expiration dates on your emergency supplies, clean the bathrooms and perform those other pesky semi-annual chores. Oh, and start bulb shopping!

It's getting cooler, and so Lloyd took the boys shopping for a few fall/winter things. I sent a list, of course, but it doesn't really matter, does it? I've tried super detailed instructions, but that never works, because Lloyd says he can't read my writing. I have to give him that one, because truly, my penmanship is virtually illegible. It's never been good, but since the dawn of the digital age it's really gone downhill. Seriously, who cares? It's pretty much a waste of finger muscles. Pretty soon we're all going to have hands like tree frogs, and those scrawny things can't write worth a damn, or so I hear. I have an idea to solve this problem, though: a specific and reward-linked list. Come home with the proper item, and you get the commensurate reward. Here's an example:

- Size 8 olive colored cargo pants = new fishing lure

- Aveeno brand moisturizing lotion spf 30 = 20 minutes beer and tv

See? Use your imagination; the possibilities are endless! You could take the opposite approach, too, and have penalties for the wrong items. They could vary based on how far wrong they are. If you can use the object for the intended purpose you only have to scrub the tub. Like, say, if you get milk chocolate instead of dark. Or merlot instead of cab. But if the purchased object is entirely useless, it's time to clean the basement. Like if you need medical supplies and instead get beer and live fish. This has actually happened to me. I'll come clean here- you know me, always telling the complete unadulterated truth*: I totally got this idea from the Berenstain Bears, in a tome entitled 'The Berenstain Bears Forget Their Manners'. As true Berenstain Bears scholars know, Mama Bear doesn't always treat Papa Bear with the utmost respect, often relating to him the same way she does Brother Bear and Sister Bear, in this case doling out chores as penalties for bad manners. I'm generally not a fan of this sort of marital dynamic but sometimes a bear's got to call it like she sees it, am I right? In any event, I prefer the carrot to the stick, myself, though I can see that the carrot approach is going to be a lot more expensive and won't help my house get clean.

We also took the boys to see 'Dolphin Tale'; have you seen it? It's about a real dolphin named Winter, who has a prosthetic tail. It was cute, if a little cheesy. You can see her for realsies at seewinter.com. The over-the-top stuff is all fictionalized and consists of a cute but troubled kid whose love for the dolphin helps him overcome his troubles, his swimming champion cousin who has been injured and traumatized while serving in the army, and an evil land developer who wants to turn the marine hospital into a resort. Geez, really? They had to make up a bunch of run of the mill melodrama to jazz the story up? A dolphin with an engineered tail isn't good enough by itself? Because that is pretty freaking cool, if you ask me.

And that's all the news for today; what's going on at YOUR house??

*Lloyd would perhaps take issue with this; he didn't like how I said he was opposed to electric guitars in the church post the other day. To be fair, he does tolerate them, though he PREFERS their non-presence. They are not in the same category as sheet metal, which he simply will not abide. Nonetheless, I will have to insist that the statement still qualifies as TRUE.

News

Is it just me, or is everyone WAY crazier than usual these days? I swear, I am going to stop listening to/reading/watching the "news". Have I said that before? I'm pretty sure that sounds kind of familiar. Anyway, I mean it this time. It's like we're living in some kind of bizarro universe where the three stooges are serious contenders for president, teachers and other public servants are lazy, greedy parasites with outrageously cushy jobs and unreasonable benefits, and Jesus would rightfully withhold healthcare from a sick kid in just retaliation for his parents' poor capitalism skills. Corporations enrich themselves on the backs of the environment and the increasingly marginalized and desperate labor force, then use the cash to lobby the congress and bribe the Supreme Court, all so they can make MORE money and pay less taxes. Our elected representatives battle amongst themselves like toddlers who all want the only Elmo toothbrush and can't even keep the government running and airports open while they wage unsustainable wars. Yet somehow, the guy that issues my passport and makes 40k and the school lunch program are the reasons we're awash in red ink?

I'm terrified that the next news I see will inform me that two plus two now equals 43,873, gay people cause hurricanes, and that the law of gravity has been suspended because the tea party thinks it might be socialist. Oh, I could go on. And on and on and on, but just thinking about it makes my head start to throb like it's about to explode, and then I just get exhausted and want to lay on my couch drinking beer. Not that there's anything wrong with that! I believe in moderation in all things, and too much beer/couch time will cut into my beer/screen time, so I'm on a mission, and I think you guys can help me out. Here's what I need: news that won't make me insane. More insane, I mean. My friend MeLissa has already come through, with this story from King 5 on cooking with the bug chef. Thanks, MeLissa! That's more like it. Put your suggestions in the comments or email me at womanwithadeadcat@gmail.com; my sanity is in your hands!

Friday

Happy Friday, everyone! At my house, it's barely 6 a.m. The coffee has bypassed the carafe and flowed all over the counter, cabinets and floor, along with a generous helping of grounds. I like strong coffee, y'all! The towels were all dirty and there was no soap in the shower. I licked the floor like a thirsty cat, I rubbed the grime off on the shower wall like a cow on a fence, then shook myself dry like a dog, only to discover that facebook is down. OH, THE HUMANITY!

Let me make a slight clarification: when I say facebook is down, I mean I can read it, but not post. They are working on this issue and feel certain it will be resolved shortly. Try again in a few minutes! In the meantime, however, here I sit with rage to vent. Thanks a lot, FACEBOOK!

You know, I hate the legislative branch as much as anyone these days. Maybe more! It's super easy to get whipped into a frenzy, for a multitude of legitimate reasons. But I keep seeing these posts about how they all get their salaries for life, or how they get a full pension after one term. None of these things are true. You can read the truth here or here. Or google it up and find out more. As per the usual, the truth is much less outrageous than the rumors and lies.

Again with the gastropods

I swear to you, I am not trying to copy shitmykidsruined.com; lately it just seems that every time I turn around my kids have ruined some more shit. Right now there is a big pile of wet dirt on the front walk, the unattractive remains of a vinegar/baking soda/red kool-aid volcano on the porch, a web of fishing line strung around the living room, mud spattered on the front window, and a snail running wild in the kitchen. Currently, it is clinging to the corner where the cabinet meets the ceiling. I have no idea where it came from. I don't even WANT to know, because it probably has friends and a large extended family.

Truly, I have a million other things to write about, and some of them are even important. Well, okay, that's probably a lie. But you never know; don't count me out! I might surprise you yet with a deep thoughtful analysis of some serious, timely issue. Fine, another lie. So sue me. But do it quick, before the debt ceiling default because about 23 milliseconds after that my net worth will consist solely of gastropods, empty kool-aid packets and wine bottles. That'll learn you. Either way, I even get tired of myself if I post too much of the yuk, yuk, look what my crazy kids did now/I'm a bad mommy schtick. It's just that it's so, so easy: this stuff writes itself. And also boggles the mind. Look, here's a video! Just a short that chronicles one of the afternoon's approximately 43 googol similarly insane activities:

See what I mean? What's a girl to do, right? Sigh.

Bloody Hell

I don't even know how to start this story, so I'll just hop right in. I get myself in the worst fixes that way. If you ever hear me say, "There's only one way to find out!" or "How bad can it be?" just do yourself a favor and RUN. But I'm sure my story will come out fine, right?! Here goes:

I had a dentist appointment this morning, so I left work early. Luckily, my dentist is near a Goodwill, and it is also near a blood donation center. I have been wanting to give blood for a while. I used to do it, but it always made me queasy and lightheaded, and so I stopped. But blood donations kept my mother alive for a while, and I've been wanting to donate. Just a note for my Korea/Europe friends: living in Songtan will not disqualify you to donate blood products when you are back in the U.S., but some European locations may. I think it has something to do with those anemic Brits, but I don't know for sure. Also, there are some new creepy diseases to watch out for, like Chagras and Babesiosis (which I bet is not NEARLY as fun as it sounds).

After fortifying myself with a 7-11 Coke Slurpee and my beloved sea salt and pepper Kettle Chips (no FTC disclosure needed, this post is not sponsored by 7-11, Coke, or Kettle, though I would dearly love it to be!) I went into the blood center. I hadn't been for quite some time, so it took them a while to dig me up in the computer. When they found me, my birthday was off by a year, on the old side. This made the volunteer at the desk nervous that she had the wrong person, and while she was performing another records search, I recalled why the date was wrong.

See, I was a year younger than the rest of my high school class, and was thus not quite old enough to donate when the bloodmobile came around, so I just moved my birthday back one year. When I was regularly donating, I could remember that I had lied and so would just tell them the fake date that matched their data, so it wasn't an issue. I decided the time had come to 'fess up, so I told her the truth. Well, she thought that was so funny that she told the whole staff and they all thought it was so cute that I had wanted to donate so badly that I had lied about my birthday. I didn't have the heart to tell her that I did it for the extra credit, which I desperately needed. This will probably not shock you, but I was not the most industrious student in high school, though I was enormously talented at bootlegging animal beer. This post is also not sponsored by Schmidt, though I would dearly love it to be (CALL ME; I accept beer in lieu of cash!)

Then, they asked where I had gone to school, and when I admitted that I had gone to Auburn High, they told me that to this day, good old AHS has the best turnout for high school blood donors in the entire Puget Sound. I know they must think it's because Auburn's teenage citizens are the most civic-minded, generous, plump-veined kids in all of South King County. Sadly, though, unless things have changed significantly in the ever-so-brief period since I left, I'm pretty sure it's just because AHS is the home of the kids that need the most extra credit. And cheap beer.

I did get several compliments on my nice plump Auburn veins. I often do, they are quite appealing to a certain segment of the population. Funny, no one ever mentions my stunning looks, my brilliant conversation or my charming personality. Oh, well, I'll take what I can get, I guess. And guess what? The whole time they were sucking my blood, I felt perfectly fine.